Sleep, Little Vongola
by sapphermine
Summary: It wasn’t that he was particularly interested in the boy. In fact, people thought that he downright hated him and that he wanted to use the boy to destroy the world which had once almost destroyed him. It wasn’t true, though.' MukuTsuna.


Was written for Momo-chan, Jack and Shinsei. Because you guys inspired me to do this, so much that I just _had _to write it. Haha!

It's a little confusing so I'm very sorry for that. But anyway, enjoy!

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**Sleep, Little Vongola**

It wasn't that he was particularly interested in the boy. In fact, people thought that he downright _hated_ him and that he wanted to use the boy to destroy the world which had once almost destroyed him. It wasn't true, though.

He didn't hate the boy. He didn't even _like _the boy either.

It was… an attraction of sorts. A sort of mental gravitation towards each other.

It was nothing like _like_.

It wasn't supposed to be anything like _like_ at all.

He was curious. That as much was true. He was curious about the boy and how he can so effortlessly detect wherever he is, how can _see_ right through him, how he can be so _fucking_ _kind_ to people who nearly killed him and his friends and his Family.

He took the offer to be his _Guardian_. It was a chance to see how the boy would grow, close enough not to earn any suspicion at all. It was a perfect opportunity to catch them all off guard and snatch the boy away from all of them so that he could use the boy to destroy the world that had attempted to destroy him.

But nothing ever worked his way.

Slowly, _slowly_, he found himself beginning to _like_ the boy. He thought it was attraction, thought it was attraction to the boy's exponentially growing power and strength and _beauty._ He thought it was nothing and he paid it no heed.

He noticed, however, that when the boy smiled, when the boy would eat or sleep or talk or walk or yell or _smile at him_, he'd find himself desperately wanting _more_. He thought it was nothing. And he paid it no heed. And _that_ caused him a great deal.

Because when he found the perfect chance to snatch the boy away from all of them to use him to destroy the world that had once thought of destroying him… He found out that he couldn't do it. He couldn't get the boy. He couldn't harm the boy. He _didn't_ want to.

He wanted the boy to smile.

He wanted the boy to continue smiling, to continue growing stronger and better and kinder. He wanted to see him become more beautiful.

And beautiful the boy did become. There was no one who could _not_ be awed by the boy's beauty. His elegance, his grace, his _kindness_… they were all unmatchable. He was like the Sky, far and unreachable in its greatness but warm and enveloping and compassionate and is just _always there._

The boy was always there.

He'd go everywhere, to all sorts of places, doing all sorts of things. He'd think of leaving once, more than once, but he always found himself coming back. And that boy was always there. That boy who would welcome him back with so warm a smile and a touch that sent shivers down his spine that he had to step away quickly fearing he might burn.

He didn't want to burn. He didn't want to be marked. Marked by this boy who was _always there. _For to him, being marked means being fettered. And being fettered means being imprisoned. And he _treasured_ his freedom.

So one day, he went on a trip to all sorts of places, doing all sorts of things. He thought that, _maybe_, he'd be able to stay away for good this time. _Maybe_ he'd be able to stand to be so far away from the boy he had once thought he could posses. But then feelings started to rise from within him, feelings churning deep inside of him, feelings urging him to _go back_, to go back to that boy with the warm smiles and unmatchable kindness and who was _always there. _Deep inside of him, the feelings burned, burned like the touches of the boy that had always, always been so kind to him –to him and everyone else. The feelings were telling him to go back because there was _something wrong._ Something terribly wrong was happening. Something wrong and horrible and bad and evil. Even cute, little Chrome had told him to go back, that she'd go back with him and then maybe they'd help him get his real body back this time and that there really was no need to stay away from the boy and his Family.

But he ignored her and he ignored the feelings. Because feelings were always wrong, feelings always led him astray and lost and confused. Feelings left him always so vulnerable and weak and alone. And he didn't want to be weak and he hated feeling alone. So ignored the feelings, because, why worry, he reasoned, the boy was _always there._

The feelings stopped after a while. Little Chrome became more worried. And he became confused. So confused that he began to search, to reach out for the feelings. But no matter how far he reached, how far he touched, the feelings never returned. He was so accustomed to those feelings that he felt so _empty_ without them.

There was only one way to get those feelings back. And it was for him to _go back. _He hesitated. But little Chrome pushed and pushed until he relented. And he went back.

He took the earliest and fastest flight back immediately. In his journey, he thought of the warm smiles he was sure to see and the burning touches he longed to feel. He wasn't worried about the lost feelings. Because he'd get those feelings back. Back from the boy that was_ always there._

The boy _was_ there when he came back.

Little Chrome had immediately begun weeping inside of him when they got back. She cried and cried until there was nothing left, whispering and muttering that she should have been there.

But he laughed when they returned. He laughed so hard at the feelings that he had searched and found. Laughed so hard that his eyes burned, so hard he could feel his heart ache, so hard that tears began to fall.

And he let them fall.

Because what was there left to do, but to let them fall?

The boy was there. But the boy was sleeping. Sleeping so soundly that nothing could ever wake him up, sleeping so soundly that even the most fervent of wishes to see him awake or even the sweetest and deepest of kisses couldn't magically bring him back to life.

The boy was there. Lying there, eyes closed, as if asleep. But never to wake up again.

And so he laughed. He laughed and cried and cried and laughed. Because he knew now that he had been wrong. And that the feelings had been right all along.

He had disregarded them so long and ignored them all the time that he had completely missed how _miserable_ his life had been.

But when he was with the boy, when the boy would smile at him and cry with him and just _be with_ him, he had felt it. He had felt the misery, the sadness, the anger, the pain and the aloneness. And, _oh god_, they hurt! Whenever he looked at the boy and they boy would look at him, whenever they boy would smile at him that warm smile of his, whenever the boy would show that unmatchable kindness and compassion, he felt them. And those feelings were truly horrible.

He realizes that probably, this was the real reason why he went away.

Really, he shouldn't have gone away. He should have listened and followed his feelings. Because his feelings had always been right. His feelings wouldn't have led him astray, wouldn't have made him lost and confused and alone. His feelings could have made him _happy_.

So now he stands, lost and alone, in the middle of a beautiful forest, in front of a casket.

He's lying in there, to sleep for all eternity.

Mukuro couldn't do anything about it but laugh. Laugh because he had been so _wrong_, laugh because doing anything else would make the tears fall more. And he didn't want the tears to fall more, because he was _supposed_ to _hate_ the boy; he was _supposed_ to be planning to use the boy to destroy the world that had once almost destroyed him.

But… what _was_ there left but to let the tears fall?

So he let them. And he cried and wept and he shed tears he had kept deep, deep inside of him.

He accepts the feelings now. But it was too late.

And then he's thinking that_ i__f_ he had followed them, _if_ he had grabbed the opportunity to take the boy away to make the boy _his,_ maybe… _maybe _he'd be laughing right now. Laughing so hard with the boy that he had thought would _always be there_. Maybe he'd be watching him fall asleep, with a smile –a real smile– on his usually smirking face. Maybe they'd be eating right now, a hearty meal surrounded by people he had wanted to love. Maybe… maybe the boy would still be _here._

So Mukuro wept and little Chrome wept with him. And he let the tears fall.

Tears for the boy that had _always been there._ The boy that was always so fucking _happy_ whenever he came back, so happy that his smile matched the sun. The boy that was always there whenever he needed someone, _anyone_, to listen to him, to talk to him, to laugh with him and sing with him and dance with him… The boy that was always there whenever he needed someone to offer a shoulder to cry on, to lean on and to depend on.

The boy… he had understood him, knew him better than anyone else. And the boy loved him as much as he loved everyone else. But Mukuro had chosen to ignore the feelings. So Mukuro never knew. And he hadn't stayed.

And quickly he begins to realize that, all along, he really had feelings for the boy. Feelings that will never, ever be returned.

So what was there left to do?

Mukuro loved the boy. He loved him with all his blackened heart and with all his corrupted soul. But the boy, too, had loved him, he realizes. Loved him even through his blackened heart and corrupted soul, loved him even through all his perversion and tricks, his mischief and quirks, his weird laugh and violent nature. The boy had loved him. And that was probably why Mukuro began to love the boy back even though he wanted to use the boy to destroy the world that had once attempted to destroy him. That was probably why Mukuro couldn't use the boy, the reason why he didn't want any harm to touch the boy.

He had loved him.

Mukuro still loves him.

He gently wipes the tears away, _forces _them to stop and steps a little closer to the casket.

"Peace, little Vongola," he began, "I came back. I'm glad to be back. Allow me to stay here, little Vongola. Allow me to remember you. Allow me to return what you've given me even if you never expected anything in return. Stay peacefully asleep, little Vongola. I love you. _I love you_, little Vongola. Only you. If you can hear me, then please know that I love you, that I'd do anything for you. And for your sake I'll live, little Vongola. I'll live only for you. Allow me to live to finish what you've begun, allow me to live to achieve even the wildest of your dreams."

Turning back, he whispered, "Peace, little Vongola, and allow me to live out your life for you."

The following day, a rumor had begun to spread.

'Mukuro had been defeated' is what was said. Shortly after that, a new rumor began to spread around the Vongola. A man had caught a picture of Chrome in an airport in Italy getting in contact with another man. Chrome was never seen after that but the Vongola was led to believe that the Mist Guardian was still alive. Furthermore, the Cloud Guardian believed that the man who had discovered and took the picture of Chrome probably was the same man in the picture. And someone who had a piece of Rokudo Mukuro.

A year passes quickly, with no rumors of the Mist Guardian. But after that year, a new and bigger rumor began to spread.

A rumor that the little Vongola from ten years ago was here.

And then quickly after that, somewhere in Italy…

_"'It's the first time I've seen you here."_

_"Ah! My name is Leo. It's nice to meet you __Byakuran-sama__."_

_"I see, nice to meet you as well. You don't have to add "__sama__" to my name by the way…"_

_"B-but…"_

_"I gladly accept your help… __Leo-kun."_

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I hope that it wasn't _that_ confusing and Mukuro wasn't so out of character...:D  



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